Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

best.”
    Wounded, Olivia brushed past Rawlings and eased the memory jug back into its crate. When she looked at him again, she knew her eyes were angry. “Don’t you want justice for her? Or were you just pretending so I’d be more compliant? Invite you into in my bed more often?”
    “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” Rawlings retorted, moving directly in front of her. “And compliant is that last word anyone would use to describe you.” He grabbed her by the arms. Haviland was instantly at Olivia’s side, watching Rawlings warily. The chief ignored the poodle. “I want to find out what happened to Munin just as much as you do, but I have no jurisdiction, so we need to be discreet. It’s one thing to show the others the jug, but asking them to poke around in the Locklears’ past? What do you expect to find?”
    Olivia shrugged him off. “I don’t know, but the jug won’t give up its secrets easily and Munin put that KKK token on it for a reason. She put my mother’s necklace on it for a reason. She said that I’d be involved in a death and here I am, involved in two of them!” Kicking at a pinecone, she sent it skittering across the ground. “Now I’m repeating her predictions as if they were fact. Just shoot me, Sawyer, before I start buying tarot cards and following my horoscope.”
    “Don’t disregard the jug.” Rawlings’ voice was gentle. “Let Laurel have it for the afternoon, and if she comes up dry, then you’ll have to consider doing something you don’t want to do.”
    Gazing over his shoulder, she could see Laurel heading toward them, a grease-marked brown bag in her right hand. Olivia wheeled the dolly out from under the trees. “I’ll break it, but not until tomorrow. Enough damage has been done today.”
    * * *
    Olivia dropped Rawlings off at his house and drove straight to The Boot Top to confront Michel.
    Flinging the back door open, she was surprised to hear the sound of a woman’s laughter reverberating from within the kitchen. Haviland darted inside, no doubt anticipating a tasty treat from his favorite chef.
    It was too early for dinner preparations, yet Olivia knew that Michel liked to be alone in the kitchen for an hour before the rest of the staff arrived. He was here now, perched on a stool at the counter and watching in fascination as Shelley Giusti made herself at home in his realm.
    “Hello,” Olivia said, unable muster a smile. Her mouth simply wouldn’t curve upward. It drew down at the corners in a clear sign of disapproval.
    Looking abashed, Shelley wiped her hands on her borrowed white apron. “I heard about what happened to the young man who worked here. I’m so sorry.” She gestured helplessly at the mixing bowls and soufflé dishes set out before her. “When I want to comfort people, I cook them things, so I asked Michel if he’d allow me to make dessert for the entire staff. Chocolate always makes me feel better when I’m upset.”
    Olivia inhaled the aroma of rich chocolate and melted butter and nodded in agreement. “That’s very kind of you. Don’t mind me. I just need to borrow Michel for a few minutes.”
    Michel was immediately nervous. “Let me make you a drink first. Gabe’s not in yet, but I know my way around the bar well enough.”
    Olivia signaled for him to leave the room. “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
    Shelley gave Michel an encouraging smile and Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if the pastry chef was always so positive. She decided to find out. “Are you traveling alone or did your husband come along?”
    “My husband?” Shelley was flustered enough to drop the spoon she was holding. “How—”
    “Your ring.” Olivia pointed at Shelley’s finger.
    “Right. Of course. Sometimes I forget that I still wear this.” Pivoting her hand, she examined the gold band with a grim expression. “I was married. My husband passed away three years ago. It was very unexpected.”
    Olivia felt like a heel. “I’m sorry. I had no right to pry.”
    Turning her attention to the ramekins, Shelley began to fill them with the soufflé mixture. “The doctors told me it was an arrhythmia. There’s nothing we could have done to prepare. One day he was fine. The next, he was gone.” Her gaze grew distant. “He had the most beautiful hands. Michel’s are just like them. The hands of a passionate man. They make for great artists and even greater lovers.”
    “I’ll take your word on that.” Olivia hid her discomfort